Tales from the Fringe III: The Lost War
by GandFindsman
Summary: The Sequel to 'Bittersweet Reunion.' The crew of the 'Nova Hound' are forced into the employment of Moff Gennai Darden to recover a scout ship on a planet near the Unknown Regions. What secrets does this world hold...and what about their myserious escort?
1. Chapter 1

_Isn't this the way it always happens…_

_Anyone who has known me for any amount of time knows where I stand in regards to this whole blasted 'Civil War.' I don't buy into this 'freedom fighters for justice' bit the Rebels are promoting. Their people have committed acts of terrorism that have taken innocent lives just like the Imperials, all for their higher agenda. That's not to say what the Rebellion is doing is completely wrong, either. _

_Even though they're not completely innocent, the Rebs haven't done anywhere near as much damage as the Empire has done. In fact, there are single Imperial atrocities, I'm sure, that completely out weigh anything and everything the Rebels have done, and I myself take any chance I get to stick it to Ol' Wrinkles and his shell-head soldiers. There just has to be better ways of going about it then an all-out war that's pulling innocent people into the middle of their power struggles and leaving shattered lives in their wake. Trust me that I know what I'm talking about when I say this. I've seen these lives first hand in my travels across the galaxy._

_Never the less, as I said before, if I see a chance to shoot a proton torpedo up the Empire's rear and razz them for what they've done, I'm all for it. It seems, however, that I may have played freedom fighter a few too many times myself, which has led me into my current…unsavory situation._

_I'll say this, Stormtroopers are terrible conversationalists…_

* * *

A trio of boot clicks echoed in the cold, drear gray corridor of the Star Destroyer _Retributer_. Hands in his pockets, Marikk let out a sigh as he strolled along casually, despite the fact that a pair of armed Stormtrooper escorts flanked him. He was thankful they hadn't shackled him for their little jaunt, though in all honesty it had caught him by surprise. The Imperials weren't known for their leniency with prisoners, especially non-human prisoners, so this sudden act of civility made his skin crawl a bit.

As they proceeded through the bulk of the warship, his care-free disposition -or was it that fact that he was merely free?- caught him the attention of all the crewman they passed, as well as a few sneers and snide remarks. He took it all in stride, though. Whenever he saw them, he made sure to puff out his chest and lift up his chin, giving himself what he figured was the appearance of an officer of high standing. If he was going to be stuck here, he might as well have some fun.

Rounding the corner of a rather short corridor they had entered not long before, the two Stormtroopers picked up their pace and took positions at both sides of a doorway that had suddenly appeared before them. Marikk paused briefly, caught off guard by their sudden change in positions before he continued on his path, and noticed two verdant potted plants on both side of where the troopers stood, surely another rare sight on board a ship such as this, before entering into the office that lied ahead. The doors slid with speed and precision out of his way as he walked inside, buffeted suddenly a gust of warm air that escaped from inside.

It was a brightly lit space, roughly pentagonal in shape, and surprisingly comfortable. More of the potted plants like those outside the door sat in each corner, while a large, ornately woven rug of reds and oranges covered the very center of the room. Two spherical, illuminated fish tanks were imbedded in the walls to the sides of the office's most forward point, while in front of that sat a large desk, emblazoned with an almost artistic design on its steel gray facing. Busy at work with the piles of flimsiplast and datapads that were scattered amongst a line of holos and mementoes that decorated the forward part of the desk, his host, a distinguished-looking male officer sat. In all honesty, he didn't look as old as the graying brown hair might betray. This man still looked quite spry and could probably put up a good fight if he ever got into a brawl, judging by the twinkle in his eye. Then again, with the crispness of his uniform and how well-manicured he kept himself, he didn't quite necessarily seem the brawling type. Maybe swords or a quick-drawn blaster instead…

The Duros Captain shook his head, trying to get his thoughts back on track, realizing quickly that the man, an Admiral if he was reading the rank badge correctly, was already starring up at him. It was then, to his surprise, that it dawned on Marikk that this Imperial was _smiling_ at him.

"Ahhh, the esteemed Captain Marikk Danar of the _Nova Hound_," began the officer with a welcoming inflection in his deep baritone. "I welcome you aboard the _Retributer_. I am Admiral Ahren Elric, its commanding officer." He waved his hand out quickly towards the awaiting seats opposite his on the other side of the desk. "Please, sit."

With a slight nod, Marikk took the offer and slipped down onto it, both hands sprawled out on the arms of the chair. "I'm honored by your… courteous welcome, Admiral. I just wish you would have given me a little more advance warning, or any for that matter, before you tractored my ship and dragged it on board."

"While that may have been the most _polite _course of action, I agree, it would not have been the most prudent, especially considering your crew's history of fleeing any Imperial ship they encounter." Though he continued to keep his mannered, welcoming façade intact, traces of his true feelings slipped through in the form of some intones of anger in both his speech and facial expressions. He was putting all he had into keeping his 'mask on. "That is part of the reason I brought you here."

_Oh crap, he knows. I knew it. _The Captain folded his hands in his lap and kept his eyes locked with those of his host, trying to keep up his own cool façade while entertaining thoughts of imminent arrest or disintegration. "Well then, my dear Admiral, let us put our pleasantries aside and get right to the business at hand. What can I do for you?"

"Straight and to the point. I can respect that in a leader of men." Snatching up a datapad from amongst the contents on top of his desk, Elric began to scroll through whatever was displayed there and looked as though he was reading over it as he continued to speak. "It would seem you and your crew have made themselves quite a little thorn in the Empire's side, Captain. The list of your offenses is quite impressive. Trespassing in a restricted sector. Attacking an Imperial Star Destroyer. Resisting arrest… on multiple occasions, it seems. Aiding in the transport of a fugitive from Brentaal. The murder of Imperial personnel, and, so it would appear, being an accessory in the attempted robbery of the estate of one of the nobles of Vaynai. And all of this you managed to accomplish in just the last two months! It's surprising that no one has yet to put a bounty of your collective heads."

Marikk furrowed his brow. "So, what are we doing here together? Some sort of tea and ultra-formal arrest?"

"How droll indeed, but really quite the opposite, my dear Duros. I'm offering you a chance at salvation."

"Salvation?" The suspicion in his voice was heavy. "In exchange for what? There's no way you're doing this merely out of the kindness of your heart."

"No, it's out of my _superior's_ heart that you are even being offered this kindness. However, you are correct in your assumption that there must be an equivalent trade for your freedom." Admiral Elric flipped his thumb onto a small button and switched to something new on the datapad as he continued to read through it. "We have a 'small' recovery mission for you and your crew, Captain. Two weeks ago, an Imperial recon craft was dispatched to the Varsene sector, on the border of the Unknown Regions, to scout out its sole planetary body, the planet VST-001. We received confirmation that they arrived within the system, but there have been no updates since. What we would like your crew to do is go to VST-001 and recover the database so that we can discover what they found out and, if they still live, the crew. You were specifically chosen for this task by the Moff because of you group's renown and expertise in completing whatever jobs you take on."

_Not to mention that we're a highly expendable work force. _

"Well, this is quite interesting, sir, but what if we don't accept."

The Admiral tossed the pad onto the desk, his demeanor growing entirely grim. "I'm afraid there's no real choice in the matter. If you do not agree to aid us in this task, Danar, then you and your crew are to be arrested immediately and your ship impounded. Within all the activity of transferring you, though, I cannot ensure the safety or survival of anyone onboard the _Nova Hound_."

"It's not like we haven't faced these life or death situations before, Admiral. We've been in worse straights than this." Obviously, he was bluffing, but he was hoping Elric wouldn't call it.

"Oh, I have no doubts, but then, of course, there's the matter of Miss Alto…"

Marikk perked up quickly out of concern, eyes narrowing suspiciously as her name slipped off of the Imperial's lips. "Naemi? What do you know about Naemi?"

"It seems one of my agents on Vaynai spotted her in the caverns during her most recent visit to the planet. Later it was discovered that you were found in her company at a late night rendezvous on her landing pad, so I decided it prudent to have a tracking device placed on her ship in case her presence would ever be needed."

"What are you implying, Admiral?"

"Do I really need to spell it out for you, Captain Danar?"

"Well, when you put things into perspective…" The Duros's eyes closed briefly as his body gave in to a growing feeling of defeat. "With an offer like that, how can I refuse?"

"I thought you'd see it my way." There was an all-too obvious smirk on the Imperial's face, poking at Marikk like a hot coal. "There _is_ one more thing. My superior has asked that a 'special envoy' be assigned to the mission to observe your activities and to make sure you don't, by chance, go back on our agreement and try to run. I'm sure, though, that you would never do such a thing."

His voice was emotionless in response. "No. Never."

"Excellent. I'll have a mission briefing and the coordinates of the Varsene system transmitted to you immediately. The envoy should arrive at your ship within the hour. Guards!"

The door hissed opened and the two troopers came marching in, carbines held over their chests, at attention.

"Please escort Captain Danar back to his ship."

"Sir!" the two responded in unison.

Standing from his chair, Marikk took up his previous position between the Stormtroopers and began his trek back to his ship when his attention once more was called back to Admiral Elric, who continued to keep that same smirk upon his face.

"Oh, and Captain, I'm counting on you!"

* * *

It was doubtful that you'd find many crowds much quieter than the one gathered in the Destroyer's shuttle bay, unless you happened to wander into some sort of monastery. A battalion of heavily armed Stormtroopers kept silent guard as they completely encircled the form of the old Consular-class Cruiser. In opposition to their presence, Sillek waited quietly, eyes closed and arms crossed as he leaned up against the landing strut closest to the boarding ramp, his sword always at an instance's reach. Neither force budged an inch. It was this scene that greeted Marikk upon his return.

"Well, you Imps really know how to send out the welcoming committee," the Duros quipped, glancing over at the trooper to his right. Neither of them reacted to him, merely marched forward like a pair of droids, parting the line of their fellow soldiers and leading him directly to the base of the _Hound_'s ramp. "It's been a wonderful date, guys, really. We'll have to get together again soon."

Again, neither of them reacted to his comment.

"You are to remain here until further notice. Noncompliance will result in severe disciplinary actions."

Both troopers turned on heel and marched away without a moment's hesitation once their declaration was made, leaving Marikk standing there once more in the silence of the bay. "What? Don't I get a goodnight kiss?"

"You're going to get yourself shot one of these days with comments like that," chided Sillek from his position.

"True, but I think I've quite mastered the ability to get myself shot at even without the comments."

There was a light chuckle as the Quarren swordsman stood to full height and joined his younger companion at the ramp, bringing his sword back under the shadowed confines of his cloak. His tentacles seemed relatively tense despite his overall calm demeanor, though the one cut short in the skirmish with the Emperor's Hand but a month before was still looking rather weak despite the fact that the bandages were not removed and the wound itself had healed. "So, what exactly did you find out?"

"It would seem that we now have a 'job' from the Imperials."

"A job?"

Marikk nodded slowly, eyes closed as he slipped his hands into his pants pockets. "A little recovery mission from the superior of the Admiral on board this ship." He glanced around suspiciously and leaned in towards Sillek. "We'll talk about it more in a bit. For now, go gather the crew for an emergency meeting in the salon pod. There are some things to discuss."

Nodding discreetly, Sillek hurried up the landing ramp to prepare while Marikk quickly glanced around and surveyed the area before rushing up to him. There was much to do before they left… to prepare for their 'service' in the Empire.

* * *

The image of Moff Gennai Darden floated larger than life over top the holonet transceiver, bathing the communications chamber in its pale blue aura. His expression was rather terse and shadows ebbed forth from the deep lines upon his face, almost completely hiding his eyes. Neither spoke until the Admiral gave his superior officer a quick, respectful bow.

"_What do you have to report, Admiral? Hopefully something good."_

"Indeed, my Moff, I do. We have tracked and detained the mercenaries over Ord Antalaha and I've met with the Duros Captain already. He has agreed cooperate with our 'request.'"

A crack of a smile crossed Darden's thin lips. _"Excellent. Have you received any news concerning the envoy?"_

"Yes," Admiral Elric returned promptly, an obvious exuberance and pleasure in his voice. "The shuttle we sent to intercept him has just returned. He should arrive at the Mercenaries' ship soon."

"_This has been a job well done, Ahren. Though I regret Lord Ravage was unable to be here to hear this news first hand, I will tell him of your fine work once he completes his service to the Emperor. He, too, will be pleased."_

Basking in the praise, the Admiral smiled broadly and bowed again, hands clasped behind his back. "Thank you, my Moff. It is my honor to serve; with all of the skills at my disposal to see that your goals are accomplished."

"_It is good to hear once more of your commitment. Do all you can to make sure that this mission is a success. If VST-001 is the planet we suspect it to be, our plans may proceed much faster than we could have ever dreamed."_

* * *

The salon was abuzz with chatter from the crew after Marikk had passed on the news to them of the Admiral's offer. Gathered in their usual positions around the conference table, they were desperately trying to come up with some way out of their current fix with what time they had, preferably with their lives. So far, the closest semblance of an escape plan they had managed to devise might at least give them twenty seconds of life before they were blasted to atoms.

"How about we plant an explosive charge in their engine room, disable the tractor beam projectors, blast out of here, and then detonate the charges remotely, blowing this hulk to slag."

"Only one problem with this plan, Obbeo," responded Marikk calmly, hands clasped together in front of his face. "That being the little party waiting outside the _Hound_. They've already said we'd be 'severely disciplined' if we attempted to leave the ship."

"Yeah, but what about Sillek? With his fancy sword moves, he could make mince meat out of those white armored wimps," Crae returned, making mock sword moves with his hands as he spoke.

Arms crossed over his chest, the Quarren swordsman glanced over curiously at the mention of his name. "While I'll agree that the normal Stormtrooper is usually little to no challenge for me, if their numbers are great enough, such as the number of troopers that are most likely stationed on this Destroyer, even the most skilled warrior can be defeated when he is appropriately outnumbered."

And thus it continued. Back and forth they shot out whatever ideas came to mind, only then to be rebutted by one of the others. The one thing they were united on was under no circumstances did they want to get involved with and work for the Empire, but none of them could come up with a viable solution to solve their dilemma. All the while, Captain Marikk sat back in his chair at the head of the table, lost in his thoughts for the most part but returning to the here and now every so often to insert his opinions into the conversation. Normally he might have gone along with the various ideas his people were coming up with to escape the ship by force, but there still remained one thing he had not told the crew about, save for Sillek, and that was Naemi. They were still mostly in the dark to what had happened on Vaynai. He had told them about Naemi and his association with her in the past, but they still didn't know anything about her in the present, chief amongst it all the threat on her life by the Imperials if they didn't cooperate. Even if they did manage to escape, that would only bring the Emperor's fist down upon Nae before she even realized what was going on. He'd have to make sure to contact her at the first possible chance he had about that tracking device.

"Well, what do you think, Captain?"

Marikk shook his head and tried to tear himself out of his inner reflection. "Huh? What?"

"It's suicide, that's what it is, you know!" Loon interjected before anyone had the chance to inform the Captain of the latest idea.

"That's what you've said to just about each one of our suggestions, Neimoidian."

"At least I care about the collective safety, Ortolan. It's insane to try and fight our way out of a heavily armed Imperial warship. We should try more diplomatic matters. Though I'd hate to lose them, perhaps a… bribe… would be sufficient to secure our freedom." The half-Neimoidian accountant wrinkled his face slightly in disgust at the thought of giving away their hard earned credits, looking as if he had just swallowed a bitter herb. Much to his surprise, though, the idea wasn't completely disregarded.

"That actually might not have been a half-bad suggestion," his cousin added, finally getting back into the thick of things. "While it can prove effective with some less scrupulous officer, I'm afraid our hosts seem quite by the book. Loyal Imps through and through. We'd be in detention cells before we realized what was going on. While I appreciate everyone's ideas on what we could do to get out of this jam, I'm afraid in this situation…"

"_Marikk Danar. Report to the landing ramp immediately."_

The salon pod went dead silent as that command, spoken with a slightly exotic accent, rang out from the comm at the Captain's hip. They were all caught off guard and probably wouldn't have been any more shocked if the person on the other end of the comm had marched into the pod himself. Pushing out from his seat, Marikk stood to his feet and motioned towards Abras and Sillek with his index finger.

"…We're out of time. You two, come with me. It's time we met this special envoy in person."

* * *

It took nearly a minute, if that, for the trio to make their way to the landing ramp from the salon pod a deck above. Thank the maker of these old cruisers that the lift tubes were so centrally built.

Descending the ramp from the vestibule just inside, a figure clothed in black came into view, his back turned away from them, standing a few meters away, giving orders to bay crewmen who were running about, preparing various crates and moving fuel lines. Much to Marikk's relief, the human blockade the Imperials had put around their ship was gone.

"Greetings, sir!" the Duros hailed to the officer below in what both Sillek and Abras knew was the Captain's most genial diplomatic front. "I am Captain Marikk Danar of the _Nova Hound_. Might you be…"

"Yes, I know who you are and yes, I am the special envoy," the Imperial, a Stormtrooper Officer by the looks of his stark black uniform, bit back, continuing to give orders to those running about the bay. At first, they didn't notice anything odd about the man, but when at last he turned around to speak to them face to face, the mercenaries nearly stumbled backwards. "I am Commander Mereel, leader of this expedition."

"There's only one leader on this ship, _Imperial_, and that's Captain Marikk!" Abras was livid at Mereel's proclamation, but a steady arm from Sillek and a quick motion of Marikk's hand kept the torrent under control.

"I…apologize for my crewman's outburst, Commander, but I too am slightly confused. The Admiral never said anything about you taking command of this operation when we spoke earlier."

The Commander's face remained as cold and expressionless as if it were carved from stone. "Well, I have said it, and on this mission I am the eyes, ears and hand for both Admiral Elric _and_ his superior, Moff Darden of Osahn. My words are their words, so unless you want to find yourselves in containment cells, you'll heed my commands. Do you understand?"

"Yes, of course." A solemn expression framed Marikk's blue features, but inside he was fuming with the same level of anger that Abras had expressed earlier. _This deal is getting better and better all the time. Ok, ok…calm down, Marikk. You can't let this schutta get under your skin. Keep your cool. Keep your cool. _ "Anyway, Commander, if we could just make our way on board, we'll be on our way. We still need to make a layover to refuel and pick up supplies at…"

"We'll be doing no such thing." Again, Mereel shouted orders to the bay officers as several teams of two went back and forth from the _Nova Hound_'slanding ramp, loading several crates into the vestibule. "The Admiral has allowed your ship to refuel here from the _Retributer_'s stores, which my men are preparing for now. Also, we have been allotted a supply of military issue ration packs for use on our mission. As soon as I'm aboard, we'll be departing immediately to VST-001, with no stops in-between. Now get back onboard the ship and prepare. I will be to the cockpit shortly."

Marikk gritted and bowed his head. "Yes, _sir_."

Making their way back into the ship, Sillek ducked down and leaned over, whispering to the Captain while carefully glancing back behind him, almost visibly on edge. "Do you recognize what that man is, Marikk?"

"Yeah, he's a clone."

That statement, however, was an understatement. There were several types of clones within the Stormtrooper Corps, besides the rank and file recruits that also bolstered their numbers. This clone, however, was different… no, he was special. He was by no means an ordinary soldier. This man, scars across his face worn as badges of honor from the many battles he must have weathered and survived in the past, could trace his 'ancestry' back to the days of the Old Republic. This man found his origins from the genetic template of the bounty hunter known as Jango Fett.


	2. Chapter 2

With a yawn, Captain Marikk leaned back in the pilot's seat, arms crossed back behind his head as he stared lazily out the front viewport at hyperspace. After they had departed from the _Retributer_ and were safely in transit to their destination, the crew began to part, going their separate ways and spreading out across the ship to both relax and prepare. Despite this, he still wasn't alone there on the bridge. One solitary figure, the ever-loved Commander Mereel, sat quietly over at the forward weapons, shields and sensors station where Sillek generally worked. His arms were crossed over his chest, his head was slightly down and not a sound had escaped the stony military officer, but Marikk wasn't sure if he was napping or keeping watch to make sure no double crosses were going to be pulled. Perhaps a little of both.

He had been tempted to speak with the Imperial several times since they had launched, more out of curiosity than anything, but he had yet to make a move. At only 11 years of age by the end of the Clone Wars, he was still old enough to remember the videos of the Clone Troopers over the Holonet News. They inspired a sort of… awe, he supposed. So honed; so well trained. Though they were men, they moved like machines. He had always wanted to see what ticked within those stark white helms, and though the Commander had to have been raised in the more recent Imperial-era, considering how young he generally appeared in relation to how long ago the Clone Wars had taken place, he was still a clone from the same make as theirs. This man might be a completely infuriating person and a being he wanted to spend as little time with as possible, but, since they were forced to be together, he might as well try to see if he could get beneath that hard surface.

"So, being a Stormtrooper. That's gotta be some job, though I suppose it's in the blood. I mean, you being a clone and all…" Inwardly, the Duros winced and wanted to smack himself on the forehead as soon as the words escaped him. _Oh, that was smoooooth… What shall I say next? 'Oh, are you a better shot than most Stormtroopers? I was just wondering since, well, most of them couldn't shoot a flower stuck in their carbine's barrel much less an enemy combatant.' Yeah, that'll _really_ get him to warm up and talk!_

"I am what I am," replied Mereel suddenly, in the midst of Marikk's mental chastisement. The fact that he even bother to reply was enough to bolster the Duros' ego to continue.

"So where have you served in your career? There must be some exciting places you've seen."

"'Places' do not get me excited, Captain. I have been from the most opulent of palaces to the most rundown, disreputable of slums to the wilds of known space. They are all the same to me, though some may be more tolerable on the senses."

Marikk was on a roll. Though Commander Mereel's answers were anything but scintillating, he was speaking. Perhaps there was still some tiny sliver of a chance to keep the conversation going. How bizarre. If you had told him the day before that he'd be sitting down to chat with an Imperial Officer on board his own ship, he'd probably say you'd been snorting too much spice. Yet here they were…

"What about your troops? What can you tell me about them?" He inquired again, almost cheerfully now.

"Despite what you might think you know, I pride myself on being…an individual amongst those others who were born from our template. I relish solitude and I do my best work alone. I am not one for idle chatter, or much for even general conversation at that. Now, unless there is more you would like to add to this interrogation, Danar, I will be in my quarters. Until we arrive or unless this ship comes under attack by anything larger than a Star Destroyer, I _do not_ want to be disturbed."

The Captain sighed, his hopes deflating like a gas-filled worrt punctured with a spear. Staring up idly at the ceiling, he listened as the Commander's footsteps distanced until they finally disappeared down the lift tube. At the very least, he could now nap in solitude.

* * *

"I wish there were stars…"

The undulating lights of blue outside the ship did little to soothe the fire in Abras's soul, not like the peace of the stars could have. It was an odd habit, but ever since he was but a boy, if he was ever uneasy or angry, all he would have to do is go lie down and stare up at the stars to quell whatever roiled within him. Perhaps his anger right now was supposed to remain, for reasons he could not know.

Resting with his head on his arms, he was lying there sprawled out across the length of his bed within the corner of his darkened quarters, the sounds of some Jizz wailer or another floating in the air in another effort in trying to relax. That, too, was having little effect. As long as that Imperial was on the ship, there'd probably be little relaxation for him.

He shifted where he laid, putting his face towards the wall which his bed rested against, and flinched slightly, out of annoyance rather than physical pain, as the door buzzer called out to him.

"If you're either Imperial or Neimoidian, go away or you'll have a smoking hole in your gut! For anyone else the door is open!"

Abras didn't budge as the door hissed open, figuring if whoever it was had something to say, they could do it just as well with him lying like this as if he was sitting up and facing them.

"You really know how to make a girl feel welcomed, Abras," Shalla called out in a playfully exasperated tone as she leaned in the doorway, light from the corridor flooding the darkness. "Sillek had mentioned you were in a foul mood when I saw him in the lounge earlier. Thought I'd come and see how you were doing, but by the sound of things I don't know if I should come in without a suit of blast armor on."

For the first time since they left the _Retributer_, the young human chuckled under his breath as he sat up and leaned back against the corner of the room and made available a little extra space on his bunk. "Don't be ridiculous. I may be in a bad mood, but you should know me well enough by now to know that you're always welcome in here."

Both observing his movements on the bed and taking in his comments, the Twi'lek nodded in response to both the spoken and unspoken comments and took up the latter offer to join him. At the side of his bunk, she slipped off her shoes and flopped down onto the offered spot besides him, laying her head at the foot of the bed and placing her feet on the pillow.

"After the Captain told us about our little Imperial 'adventure', I figured you'd probably be fuming and would probably take refuge in here to avoid any… unnecessary confrontations."

Abras glanced down at her at the foot of the bed, one of her lekku falling back over the edge and the other draped over his closest leg, and cracked a small smile. "I swear sometimes I think you can read my mind, my aola."

"After eight years, if I hadn't learned some of your habits by now I'd be quite the unobservant vapor brain," she returned, her face flushing to just off-orange upon hearing _aola_, the name he had given her not long after they met, meaning 'flower' in Twi'leki.

"You lose track sometimes through the rush of day to day life, especially on this ship. Has it really been eight years already?"

Shalla nodded as best she could while starring up at the ceiling. "As hard to believe as it is, yup. Eight years since that day in your parent's clinic on Commenor, near the starport. I was 12 and you were 17."

"Maybe I'm the vapor brain, then," he chuckled. "I still remember the day clearly… the little yellow Twi girl in her dusty white sun dress hiding bashfully behind her parents as they entered the clinic. I still remember that nervous smile on your face when you peaked out from behind your dad." All at once, the tension seemed to lift from his body as he laughed, remembering those wonderful days of his childhood, though not to say that he was overly advanced in age now, but still, back when he was home with his parents, helping out in the clinic, those were some of his best days. Time passes, though, and things change, too often for the worse. The sudden release dissipated and his forehead furrowed once more as he looked out over the shadowed confines of his slightly unkempt quarters. "We were happy, our families together, working to provide comfort and healing to whoever might need it. Regardless of who they were or whatever their beliefs or standing, if they needed help, they could find it. Not everyone liked that, though."

"The Imperials…" Shalla responded, almost unconsciously, with a sigh, to which Abras nodded grimly.

"Those they called 'rebels' were reported to have come through to be treated as they arrived on Commenor through the starport. Being the closest and most reputable med center in the area, of course they would come to us for help. It's not like they were actively seeking to aid the Rebellion or something. They just wanted to reach out and heal, like any good doctor should. Those dirty…._schuttas _didn't care, though. They slaughtered them all…without mercy. My parents….your parents….the entire clinic staff there before closing time. They shot them; brutalized and killed them like worthless animals!" His teeth clenched until his gums began to fade white and his face contorted into a sinuous mask, something trapped between seething rage and pitiable, bitter tears. "Those bastards….I will _never_ forgive them for what they have done! For what they continue to do! Animals kill to survive, but they…they are worse than beasts! Even calling them demons would not truly express the hatred that I hide in my heart towards the Empire."

There was a tense silence in the room between them as they both sat caught in the stinging grips of the past. Their emotions hung heavily and mingled wordlessly between them there as they sat in the quiet, but feeling Shalla lay her head against his legs, as if she were looking for comfort, ebbed his own dark side a little at a time back into its cage.

"We would be dead now, too, dear soul, if you hadn't taken me to the trading outpost to shop that day. And even if we had been there, what could we have done?"

"We…I….could have done something," He muttered, almost breathlessly. "Maybe I could have saved them…"

She lifted her just slightly, enough to catch his attention, and looked over him with comforting eyes. He knew what she was saying with words even being necessary. What could two children have done in the face of such horror? As she had said before, their survival was their destiny. There were still things left for them yet to do in the great tapestry of the history of the universe, but to take hold of their future, they couldn't be stuck grasping onto what-if's.

"We were alone in the world after that day, but you took charge and protected me, provided for me. You gave yourself to the shadows of the galaxy all to save me from seeing it myself." She paused momentarily, deliberately, before continuing. "With your feelings of hate for the Empire, have you ever considered ever joining the Rebellion yourself, Ab? Fight the Imperials head on?"

"I won't say I haven't considered it before. I've known a few friends over the years who have packed up and joined up with the rebels, but it's not for me… not yet, at least. I don't want to fight in this whole grand idealistic cause their organization is going for. Besides, if you think about it… most of the leaders of this rebellion were former Imperial bigwigs itself. It seems too much like internal squabbling and petty power struggles. It leaves me with a bad taste in my mouth." Glancing over towards a small chair of the far side of the room, his eyes caught a glance of his leather jacket, holster and blaster slung over its back. "Anyway, Captain Marikk needs our help, and for all that he's done for us in the past, it's him that deserves our loyalty now. He and everyone else here hold no love for the Empire either, just like billions of others across the galaxy. Our story is just a little more personal than the others' are. I can't turn my back on Marikk now. We'll continue to stand together and take the fight to the Imps in our _own_ way, the way this crew always has."

Shalla smiled lightly and caught eyes his gaze once more before pulling herself up closer to him and laying her head down again on the comforter. "Whatever you decide, Abras, know I'll stand with you and follow you regardless of the consequences. I just can't wait 'til this whole situation is over."

* * *

A cascade of palm-sized metallic food packets cascaded to the deck plating in a silent avalanche. Setting the front of the crate down at his feet, Dormanin began to rifle through the inside of the crate and its contents, as he had done more times than he could have counted thus far, before inspecting all sides of its outer walls.

"This one, too, is clean," his translator declared with a hint of a strident whine in its speech.

And with that, the inspection continued. No, that was not entirely correct. Though it was true that the distrust of anything Imperial warranted the close inspection of the crates to make sure there wasn't anything suspicious, be it tracking device, explosive or what have you, it was also true that the _Nova Hound_ wasn't a large ship. They needed every inch they could get and if they were being given a large supply of rations such as this, they might as well take inventory of what they received before storing it away. So, while inspection for danger was their primary goal and the inventory but a secondary reality of their situation, it also provided a feasible alibi if the Commander decided to come down and poke his nose around.

Finished with his current crate, Dorm lifted the panel he had removed for its side, placed it back firmly in its place and glanced about to Leda and Obbeo as they went about similar procedures before he moved on to the next. So far they had made their way through about three-fourths of the supply so far with just a small stack of ration crates remaining.

"Oh, this is just horrible! The Imperials are cruel task masters indeed! How horrid!"

Pulling his head back out of his current crate and with upraised eyebrow, the Vurk mechanic glanced over towards Obbeo, who held a ration packet in one stubby blue hand and a datapad in the other, all the while wrinkling his trunk in an overdramatic display of grief. "What? What is it? Did you find something wrong in the inventory?"

"No, no, the inventory is going fine. It's this," the Ortolan proclaimed as he waved the packet about in the air, "that is the source of my grief and my ire! How, by the kitchens of Coruscant, am I supposed to incorporate these substandard ingredients…these _ rations_… into _my_ fine cuisine! It's unthinkable! It's…_it's heresy!_"

"Surely it can't be that bad, Obbeo," chimed Leda from behind the last stack on the far end of the vestibule."

"Oh, it's that bad! What in space am I supposed to do with," he paused momentarily and squinted as he read the package, "'Dehydrated nerf meat'? I'm a highly respected culinary artist, not some slop chef on Nar Shaddaa!"

Both Dorm and his droid companion exchanged quick glances, the former letting out a sigh and heaving his shoulders. "I truly feel for your…. 'plight', my friend. I know first hand that working with substandard parts while trying to make an optimally operational machine is a frustrating endeavor. An exercise in futility, perhaps, but we must make due with the lot that has been placed before us and hope that brighter days, or in your case finer food, lies ahead of us at the end of this operation."

There was silence as the Ortolan chef took in those words, glancing down at the datapad and the packet and sighed to himself before returning to his inventory. "To think, I had such an up and coming career all those years ago, and now look at me."

"You know, you almost sound like Loon talking like that, Obbeo."

The Ortolan's blue brow furrowed deeply as he glanced across the vestibule, yet at the same time there was a bit of play in his voice. "Please, bite your tongue, Dorm."

Again, there was a brief silence as they once more focused on their individual crates, but it didn't take long until a pair of chuckling voices echoed within the chamber's confined space. Cocking her head, Leda glanced over and observed the two of them as they laughed to themselves, bemused, and then let out a chortle of her own. If things continued on with the same intensity as she had observed amongst the crew thus far, this would be a rare sight indeed for the foreseeable future.

* * *

Even with his jacket, the air was surprisingly cold when the doors of the lift tube hissed open to reveal the bridge corridor. Stepping lightly as he exited, Craeldo glanced about curiously as he made his way towards the cockpit. He'd been on this bridge countless times before over his tenure, but with the lighting dimmed as it was now, the space had a most… unnatural ambience to it. It was hard to explain, even to himself, but with the soft glow of the monitors from the ship's systems, the small amount of lighting still on along the ceiling and deck, and the ambient aura of hyperspace coming through the front viewport, the bridge lost its usual comfortable atmosphere. Maybe it was just the overall uneasiness present on the ship and amongst its crew, but something was off… and making him feel incredibly anxious.

The Rodian made his way quickly into the cockpit at the forward end of the bridge, keeping his scaly obsidian long jacket pulled tightly around his form. There, in his chair centered squarely to the ship's main console, Captain Danar was sprawled out in his chair asleep, his mouth hanging open and a small dribble of saliva running down his chin. At the sight of this, Crae was hard-pressed to keep himself from falling over laughing and didn't know whether to wake his friend so that he couldn't straighten himself up or take a quick holo for use as blackmail later. Out sympathy and respect, he decided to forego the holo, for now, and gave Marikk a firm shake on the shoulder.

"Wakey wakey, Cap'n. Time to return from sleep to the harsh wonder world of reality."

"Such a wonderful greeting, Crae" the Duros grumbled incoherently as he began to almost slither up straight in his seat. "What? What's wrong? Did we crash into a super nova?"

"No no, nothing quite so extra crispy as that." Craeldo smirked slightly, pointing one suction cup-like finger towards the dribble on the Captain's chin, which was quickly wiped away by one blue jacket sleeve. "To the contrary, I have some rather good news. I managed to book as a new gig on some planet called Dubrillion after this Imp hunt is over."

One brow lifted curiously as Marikk glanced up toward the dark blue-hued Rodian. "What kind of job is it?"

"Just the usual retrieval-type operation. Nothing to write home about, but at least it should bring in a good wage."

Slipping his hand into his jacket, Crae withdrew a small datapad containing the details of the operation from a pocket within the lining and handed it to the Captain. With considerable haste, Marikk scanned over the file quickly, nodding to himself, before switching it off and squeezing it down beside him in the seat.

Caught off guard by the almost lackadaisical way that he had gone through the material, a slightly concerned look flashed across the Rodian's features. "Something wrong, Marikk?"

"Have you had the chance to meet him yet?"

"You mean Commander Sunshine?" Crossing his arms, Craeldo turned and leaned back against the side of the chair. "Yeah, I saw him in the corridor near the lower staterooms earlier carrying two rather large metal cases. Even for a Stormtrooper he has such a _sparkling_ personality. I've probably met feral Akk dogs that were more inviting."

"Mmm, his interpersonal skills do have much to be desired. I tried to be friendly with him and strike up a conversation some time ago, but the way he reacted, you think I had a spotlight in his eyes and my pistol in my hand. He barged off the bridge, stating that," Marikk cleared his throat and contorted his face into an unusually terse expression, at least for him, as he went into his imitation of Mereel. "'I'm going to my quarters and I don't want to be disturbed until we arrive' because I'm a slope-browed, fang-toothed warrior supreme who simply can't possibly be bothered with such lower life forms such yourselves."

Snout wrinkled up and wriggling as he tried to contain his laughter, Craeldo's eye began to water until he just couldn't hold it any longer. "Ah yes…yes….that definitely sounds like the guy I saw earlier. Most definitely!"

"I'd seal him in that room if I could without getting us vaped," Danar quipped, a wry grin crossing his lips.

"No doubt, Cap'n. No doubt."

"Hey, Crae," Marikk interjected suddenly, throwing the conversation into a one-eighty. "Have you happened to hear from Dorm or Obbeo- -"

"_Captain Marikk…"_

Before Marikk could finish or Craeldo could respond, the synthetic voice of the Vurk's translator called out over their comms.

"Speak of the Sithspawn," joked the Duros Captain as he reached down and snatched his commlink from his belt. "This is Marikk, go ahead Dorm."

"_Yes, Captain, I just wanted to fill you in on our progress thus far. Leda and I have finished inspecting the crates and have found no signs of suspicious materials. Unless they hid something in the food itself, we are clean. Obbeo is making headway into the inventory and we're about to join him. It should take us half an hour to an hour or so to finish, sir"_

"_Though it'd go faster if some blue buffoon would get off his duff and help us!" _Leda barked from the background, wanting to get her barb in before he master finished speaking.

Marikk and Craeldo exchanged glances and laughed slightly in self-defeat at the repair droid's comments. "She's got your number, Mare."

"Aye, I always wonder how long it will be before I find her standing over my bed in the middle of the night with a laser welder." Glancing at the comm quickly, he made sure the call button wasn't pressed down or else he might have given Dorm's unstable assistant any ideas. A wave of relief went over him when he found that it hadn't been activated when he made his comment, and then went on with the conversation at hand. "Get all that done as soon as possible, Dorm, and get it stored away. We shouldn't be long out of the Varsene system and I want everything organize before we arrived."

Almost as soon as the words escaped his lips, though, the navcomp began to bleep rapidly and a slow whine sounded from the ship's engines as the hyperdrive disengaged and they found themselves soon reverting back into real space. As the waves of blue peeled away and the sight of stars soon recaptured their surroundings, both Marikk and Craeldo stood there slack jawed at what they saw sitting squarely ahead in the near distance.

"_What was that, Captain,"_ came Dorm finally, breaking the tense silence that had taken hold of the bridge. _"It sounded like the hyperdrive just shut down."_

"That's because it just did. Dorm, I'm afraid the inventory is going to have to wait for now. We've got trouble."

Glancing up towards Craeldo with a look of surprise and perhaps a bit of anxiety in what were generally cool, composed features, the Rodian almost seem to anticipate the Captain's request and sprinted back to the communications station, nearly leaped into his chair and activated the ship-wide comm system while Marikk prepared himself at the navigational controls.

"This is Craeldo to all aboard, we have a bit of an emergency, people. All crew members to their stations immediately, if not sooner! Also, Commander Mereel, please report to the bridge!"

The comm officer craned his neck back into the corridor and looked up towards Marikk, who also managed to glance back at him while working frantically at the controls before both returned their gazes out at the front viewport. It looked like the fun and games were going to begin a little earlier than expected.

* * *

Thin plumes of steam rose from the ceramic cup that sat square in the center of the chamber's floor, performing their dances of death until they at last faded into oblivion. Eyes closed and hands on his knees as he leaned down upon them in a meditative pose, Sillek let a sigh escape him before slowly inhaling and taking in the scent of the herbal tea.

Ever since he locked eyes with that man, if such a being could even be called a true man, his mind and his being had been locked in unrest. Too many bad memories… a past bloodied with idealism and deceit, and the gleaming sword he carried that was key to it all. It had been decades since he had seen one of the clones' ilk and this was far too soon to see one again. Just the sight of him caused that hidden specter within to try and reach its obsidian tendrils into the present. Thus, it was best if he stayed here, alone, and tried to seal that ghost of the past back into oblivion.

Again, with a steady rhythm, the Quarren begin the two-step process: exhale; inhale.

There was one point in the past, when he had first picked up his sword, where he had meant the man from which these clones sprang, the hunter Fett, and his young son, Boba. Despite the light in which his profession was held, there was something about the Bounty Hunter… a nobility to him. There was an old saying that seemed slightly appropriate for him. He was "a good man that did bad things."

If Jango was a slice hound, though, these clones were nothing more than house broken lap dogs. Bred to be obedient; killing even if it went against what they personally wanted. They were biological droids with a spark of ingenuity, that's all. No more human than the blasters they carried. In his thoughts, anyway.

Pausing in his thoughts, Sillek began once more to exhale when the peace of the moment was broken by a violent rocking that took hold of the _Nova Hound_. Wordlessly, his eyes snapped open and he rose to his feet, quickly slipping on his boots and taking sword and sheath to his side. As soon as he was prepared, Sillek made his way towards the door when another quake tossed the ship about. Glancing back, his eyes locked once more on his cup of tea, now lying on its side, its contents bleeding onto the floor.

Tentacles held tersely and eyes narrowed as he looked over the pool, he turned and quickly made his way into the corridor.

"I have a bad feeling about this."


	3. Chapter 3

Great mounds of debris floated in their silent course through the void, completely enshrouding VST-001's verdant form. Both ships in various phases of disrepair and great stone bodies comprised the field that surrounded the planet, creating a volatile barrier for those that might attempt passage, the craft suspended there, ships from over a thousand years, a testament to that. Every type from an old Sith warship to a Firespray-class patrol craft floated silently in their cold deaths, the fates of their crews unknown. As the _Nova Hound _began to enter in, those aboard hoped not to join them.

The bridge was a flurry of activity as crew members ran about trying to keep the ship together as they began to weave their way through the debris field, juking left and right to avoid what they could. Even so, their ship continued to be rocked and her systems tested as they were met with the occasional accidental collision. Marikk's hands moved with lightening speed across the nav controls, trying to keep them in one piece; all the while Commander Mereel hung around behind him, watching from his place in the center of the cockpit.

"Damn it all," the Duros grunted, gritting his teeth as the ship shook again. "I hate flying through asteroid fields!"

Turning away as a sea of spark erupted from his console, Sillek pulled his cloak over his face and looked over towards the Captain. "Shields are down to fifty percent and falling quickly. We either need to back out or get down to the planet quickly."

"Well, I'm doing the best I can, but this debris field is as thick as murk soup." Shifting his quickly to his belt, he grabbed his comm. and hoisted it to his lips. "How're things going down there, Dorm?"

"_Not the best, Captain, but I am trying to keep things together as best I can. I most glad we had those repairs done on Vaynai or else we would be trying to breath vacuum right now, sir."_

Abras rolled his eyes. "Oh, well that's a pleasant thought."

Again, a violent tremor shook the Nova Hound as an old hunk of capital ship hull impacted against them, sending sparks cascading all across the bridge. "There's something odd about this planet, Captain," commented Sillek, leaning over and studying the various monitors at his station.

Before the Captain could reply, though, Commander Mereel moved over and pushed his way in beside Sillek. "What is it?"

Looking up at 001 through the viewport, Marikk furrowed his brow. "Hey, that's my line, pal! Uh, so….what is it, Sillek?"

"Well, Captain, though VST-001 is rotating, it's not orbiting around the system's star. It's completely stationary."

"Well, that would explain how the debris field was able to stay completely stable around the planet, I guess, though she's probably highly succeptable to meteor strikes. I'm surprised this orb isn't completely dead."

"Perhaps that would explain that," the Commander commented, a neutral tone to his voice, as he pointed towards the viewport and a large black region, a blemish upon 001's otherwise green surface, in the northern hemisphere.

"This place is getting weirder and weirder."

As if to punctuate the fact, the sensor monitor began to bleep at rapid pace, to which Sillek quickly respond. The look on his face as he did, however, didn't belay any relief for the situation. "Warship….hull…incoming from above, Captain."

Looking up and out the viewport, the Quarren's warning was affirmed as a gigantic slice of decaying capital ship, maybe a third the size of a Star Destroyer, barreled down upon them at a rapid pace. Narrowing his eyes, Marikk moved his hands across the controls and prepared for some trick maneuvering.

"Whatever power you can divert to the shields, Dorm, do it now!"

"_Diverting power from non-essential and life support systems to shields, Captain. I would just be quick about getting us down to the planet's surface." _

"Well, don't worry about that, Dorm. No one wants to get planetside right now more than me."

Pulling back, Marikk sent the _Hound_ into an upward spin, taking the cruiser through a gap in the warship hull and through what remained of its inner structure. Much of it had been hollowed out by time or beaten away by asteroids, but enough remained inside to make their own ship's systems squeal in pain on the thirty second trip as they weaved through superstructure until they came bolting out the top of the debris like a hawkbat on fire. The speed at which they found themselves traveling at, however, proved to be most disadvantageous as an asteroid the size of a small city lied directly in there path. Eyes bulging, the Captain throttled back and flipped the ship around, cork-screwing close enough to the body that the lower shields scraped across the asteroid's surface and maneuvered them on a path back towards VST-001.

Clear of the asteroids proximity and on course once more, the debris in the field seemed to lessen, or at least decrease in size, as they drew closer to the planet. This, however, was enough to allow tensions to lessen on the bridge. Leaning back in his chair, Captain Marikk breathed a sigh of relief, perhaps because they had actually survived his little stunt, and began to plot their course.

"I'm gonna try near the heart of the planet's largest continent. Once we settle down, we can figure out what we're gonna do from there."

Dancing his fingers across the controls, Marikk began to enter in the coordinates for their landing destination, but noticed that his instruments responsiveness was beginning to waiver in and out. It wasn't just a localized event, either. All across the ship, the systems were going on the fritz. The Captain struggled with his console, planting a firm fist onto its facing in frustration as it continued to ignore his input, before reaching for his comm. once more.

"Dorm, what's up? The ship's going out of its blasted mind!"

"_Not…bzzzt ... re. Some kind of fiel…ound the planet. Bzzzzt…essing with…'s systems. I'll do...can…bzzzt"_

"Great," the Duros muttered. "Do what you can to keep us steady and I'll try and land this thing with out splatting us like a bug on the planet's surface."

Trying to reign in the struggling craft, the Duros did what he could and steered the _Nova Hound_ on towards the planets surface while trying to keep them in one piece as they entered the atmosphere. It would be a bumpy ride for both them and the Firespray that followed invisibly behind them towards the jungle below.

* * *

The Varsene system's sun sat high in the sky over the jungle. By its position, it was probably near noon there now.

They had landed an hour ago in a small clearing in the midst of the great jungle and, by orders of the _great_ Commander Mereel, the entire crew was sent out to clear the brush from around the ship.

All those who were usually jacketed had long shed them in the oppressive grip of the heat and the humidity, and some, such as Abras and Craeldo, had shed down to undershirt and bare skin. But now, after their long toiling, the area was clean and they could find some respite. Almost every member of the crew was resting in the shade under the belly of the ship, save for Leda, who hovered about and examined the ship for whatever outer damage they might have incurred, and the Commander, who somehow looked as cool as usual, standing with arms crossed over his chest on the landing ramp. If they didn't know any better, they'd swear he was a human replica droid or something.

Just as that thought crossed Marikk's mind, though, he glanced up and noticed that the Imperial was staring down at him, sending a chill down his spine. _Ack! Is that blasted clone psychic or what? He never speaks… maybe he _can_ read minds._

"Alright you lot, on your feet! Your five minutes are up!" the Imperial bellowed from his perch in a volume that probably rang out across the forest. "We can't be wasting time around here. We have a job to do!"

A chorus of groans and grumbles rose from the _Nova Hound_'s crew as they stood to their feet and began to congregate around the landing ramp, yet he paid their complaints no mind. As always, Mereel was all business. With his usual duracrete-façade, he glared down upon each individual with a purposeful stare. He was asserting his dominance.

"Now listen carefully, because I'm not going to repeat myself. To expedite our search, it would be best if we separated into groups to find the Scout ship in this jungle. Captain Danar, you and the Quarren will search to the North, the gunman and the Ortolan will go to the South, the Rodian and the Neimoidian will go to the East, and I will go to the West. Meanwhile, the repair droid, the Vurk and the Twi'lek will remain behind to keep the medical bay running and execute any repairs needed. Now, does anyone have anything useful to add?"

"Yeah, Don't you think you should have someone go with you, Commander," Loon spoke up in an almost patronizing tone, as if trying to garner favor with the Clone. "I mean, the rest of us are in teams, perhaps you would like…"

The Commander's steely gaze, as it locked onto him, caused the accountant to lower his voice to silence. "I told this to the Captain and I'll say this to all of you now. I do my best work alone, so don't get in my way. Now then, is there anything else?"

With timidity, the hulking Dormanin raised his hand from the crowd, not speaking until their 'leader' nodded at him in permission. "Before we began clearing the ship, I studied some scans the ship's instruments took of the planet. It seems the interference in the ship's systems and communications array was caused some kind of field in VST-001's outer atmosphere. It does not really seem to be a natural phenomenon, at least nothing I can find any scientific cause for, but it also does not seem to be caused by any artificial means. Regardless of the disturbances it was causing on the way down, it should be noted that our communicators should work as normal on the planet's surface, but I do not believe we'll be able to make any contact with anyone beyond the planet. That's all."

Again, Mereel nodded as he took in the information, yet made no direct response to it. "If that's everything, you all have your orders. If you find anything, report back immediately, but I don't want any idle chatter over the comm. lines. Dismissed!"

* * *

The shadows watched keenly as the group parted ways and prepared for their individual trips into the dense forest. What were these here for? Were they friend? Were they foe? They'd have to be on guard. They'd have to be careful. Yes. Just in case.

A chorus of chirping voices sounded forth at each other from the brush, debating what exactly their next move would be until a voice of wisdom broke up their squabbling and settled them to their tasks. Chastized, the groups nodded and launched swiftly back into the wood as they broke off into their groups, sending out chirps and barks as signals to others in the vicinity to prepare for their arrival… the arrival of the strangers from above.


End file.
